Of Rats, Men and Reunions
by otahotian
Summary: "Deleted? Like from his phone? No big deal, I got a new one.." "No, John. He deleted you from his memory. Packed all the information about you he had, all the emotion he had when you were concerned, tied it in a box and fucking deleted it." 15 years after John left for war he is back, though things aren't that easy now either. John!Lock; Sequel-ish to Rats and Men.


**Title: Of Rats, Men and Reunions**

**Characters: John Watson; Gregory Lestrade; Sherlock Holmes**

**Place: London - Greg's Flat and Baker Street**

**Time: After John's coming back from war; 15years after he left London (meaning John's 38, Sherlock 34)**

**Mood: Curious; Confused; Smitten**

**Additional Info: Sequel to 'Rats and Men'; Written as a RP together with CheshireCheeseNate**

**Warning: Cheesiness**

* * *

To the friends John had out in Afghanistan and his family, it was common news that he had returned to England prematurely after his 9th tour. The army had given him his pension and helped him find accomidation and a therapist but apart from that he was pretty much alone. He didn't mind but he did miss being out there. He missed his garrison and his mates, most fallen. He had barely scraped with his life but it had come with a cost. When John got out of the taxi as he came back into London, he couldn't help but feel the grey familiar sky hang over him like a dead weight. 15 years had passed since he had seen the curly haired teen. Didn't even know if he was alive. But he wasn't his main concern right now, the blinding pain in his leg was.

**Hey Greg. Guess who's home? London just can't get rid of me. -JW**

**Oh? The dead are coming back, ay? Come visit me the first thing. Please. -GL**

**Sure. You still living in your old place? -JW**

Now this really did feel like a flash from the past. 38 years old. He'd really been away for so long. The city looked so much more grey than before, everything moving so fast and leaving him behind. He couldn't even imagine an older Sherlock. He was back for good now.. Could he see him again?

**Yeah. I have grown fond of that flat. It's close to both work and.. other places where I would need to go to. -GL**

**Sure. Will be there soon enough. -JW**

John told the cabbie the adress and he changed direction at the next roundabout. 10 minutes later, John left the taxi with a slight struggle and payed him. Leaning on his crutch, he took in the muggy London air with a sigh, limping over to the door and ringing the bell.

Gregory pulled on his grey undershirt and hopped down the stairs to the building entrance, opening it with wide grin. He instantly engulfed the soldier in a bear hug, before holding him on an arm-length, inspecting him to see how he had changed. "You are still as short as you were when you left! I swear you didn't grow an inch!" he laughed merrily, ushering John inside and into the lift.

John was quite taken aback by the hug but smiled regardless, laughing. "Not even a centimetre." He hobbled inside with his crutch, looking back at him when they went in the lift. "You've gone grey." He grinned, looking up at the other. "I uh...I saw you on the news the other day. Detective Inspector." He shook his head, smiling.

"Yeah." Greg stretched his arms behind his head, grinning smugly. "The work's quite easy. Trying to keep Anderson from killing Sh-" he stopped himself awkwardly, before hopping out of the lift. He unlocked the door to his flat, stepping aside to let John go in. "Trying to keep Anderson from being an idiot is far more difficult. Come on in."

John laughed softly, he was glad for the older. He left the lift and went into Greg's flat, looking around with a smile. "Anderson's still knocking around? God..thought he would have grown up a bit. Nice place." John commented, with a smile. It was almost nostalgic to hear Greg's voice.

"Well, go sit down." Greg nodded towards his living room, reaching to pull two bottles of beer from the fridge. "I see you have left part of yourself south there." he raised his eyebrows at John's injured leg, handing one of the drinks over.

John went to the sofa and sat down, placing the crutch against the arm. "Thanks." He smiled, taking the bottle. "You have no idea how good beer sounds right now. Completely banned out there." He sipped the beer with a happy sigh before placing a slightly tremmoring hand on his lap. "Got shot. That's why I'm back. Not of any use anymore." he said plainly, resting back into the couch.

"Still a doctor, though." Greg shrugged, moving to sprawl over the second arm-chair. "Molls works in Bart's. You could call her to get a place there. Might be a good place where to start." he offered, taking a sip of his drink as well.

John's smile brightened at the mention of Molly. "Gosh..how is she? Are you and her together still?" He asked, taking another sip. He had considered Bart's before but he thought that for the moment another job might suit him better like a GP or something. A low stress job would be nice.

"Still together. Not living together or anything. More of a still dating. Like teenagers." he laughed at himself, plopping his legs onto his low table. "It suits us. What about you? Any nice gal caught your attention?" Greg wiggled his eyebrows at his long lost friend, finally found again.

"Nah. I've been too focussed on work. Army lifestyle isn't ideal for a relationship and most of the girl's out there are batting for the other team." He smiled slightly, laughing at Greg's eyebrows. "I think it's really good you two are still together. Some familiarity anyways."

"I am glad we are still together as well, just for you to know." Greg laughed merrily. "Anyway, Johnny-boy. Have a flat already? Or do you want to crash here for some time? Plenty of space here, promise."

"I've uhh got a flat but thanks Greg. Very kind of you to offer." He nodded a thanks, smiling as he took another sip of beer. "I.." John started, trying to find the confidence to bring it up. "I dread to ask but..Sherlock?"

"Uh.." Greg almost choked on his drink. Fuck. He had hoped John wouldn't bring it up so soon. He fiddled with his fingers, looking down into his lap. "Alive.. well, yeah.." he grimaced. "What exactly do you want to know?" Greg asked carefully.

He was alive, good. "That's all really. To be perfectley honest, I don't really care." John smiled, drinking the cool liquid. "Just wanted to make sure everyone was still around and kicking. He rubbed the bridge of his nose slightly, "Anything happen while I was gone..? Anything of credit?" John asked, picking at the label of the bottle of beer.

"Quite a few things." Greg shrugged. "We have our own personal war-zone here in our free time, you know that. Like; wake up, dodge assassins, go to work, have lunch, take antidote , go home, call bomb-squad. It's quite funny actually. Just a bit difficult when I have family over." the older laughed.

John laughed, not overly sure whether the other was joking or not. "Joys of being a civi ey? I don't do anything anymore." He shrugged, "Nothing happens to me. Get up, go to therapist. Go home. Bout it now."

"You are quite lucky, actually." the older sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "Sometimes it gets quite irritating.. Anyway, what about that creepy guys of yours? Still tailing you?" Greg leaned forward in the chair, gazing at John in curiousity.

"Creepy guys..?" John sat back into the chair, looking at Greg slightly confused but after a while his eyes opened wider in recogintion. "Oh! Them. Haven't seen, thought or heard from them for over a decade." He smiled slightly.

"Good news." Gregory grinned. "I will drink to that." he reached to clink his bottle of beer to John's, taking a small sip. "So what do you plan now then? Bart's? You are staying in London, aren't you."

John nodded in answer as he swallowed the beer he'd been missing. "Yeah, well I'm going to stay in London. No point going anywhere else. You and Molly are here. I haven't really got anyone else. Sounds kinda sad. Gonna find a clinic and be a GP and stuff. Swapping shrapnel for sniffles."

"Sounds about right." the older grinned, "Not Bart's then? Where do you have a flat? I hope it's somewhere close, I could use a drinking buddy."

"Nah. Not Bart's. Don't really wanna be in a hospital. The flat I live in is about 30 minutes from here by cab, just up in Soho so not far." John smiled, "Drinking buddy sounds good. I've really missed you, mate."

"Ew, leave that cheesiness outdoors when you come to visit." Greg made a face, but ruined it by laughing just a second later. "Anyway... the more serious matter.." he frowned slightly, "Do you plan on visiting Sherlock?"

"I..I dunno. That was just a fling bloody years ago. Like asking the 25 year old me if he wants to visit the girl he kissed when he was 10 in a bouncy castle. I dunno. It's not like he really matters to me. It was years ago, Greg." He looked at his glass if it was the most interesting thing in the universe. "I'll live without seeing him."

"I guess that will be for the best, won't it." the man muttered, torn between feeling relieved that he wouldn't have to explain and a sad that Sherlock had been right about things after all. Maybe Sherlock had always known the best. Surprisingly, it didn't really calm him down.

"I mean, it wouldn't hurt to pop in and say hi, I guess." John shrugged, drinking the rest of his beer. "Just don't see it as a big deal. Learnt that there's a lot more problems in the world. Lot more."

"Yeah.. well, don't 'pop in' now." he shrugged, "Keeping himself busy. Call me before you do, I will join you." Greg said, finishing off his own bottle as well. "Want one more? Have plenty here." he shrugged.

"Nah. I think that I'll be alright." He nodded, rubbing the back of his head. Now he really did want to see Sherlock. He couldn't imagine the teen being older. "What's he doing these days?" Did he even remember John?

"Helping up. We meet quite often on the crime-scenes. He helps me with the crimes and I let him bully Anderson in exchange." Greg grinned slightly. "Though really. Give me a ring before you go visit him. Please."

"Ah right." He smiled at that. "I will. Is he still living on Baker Street?" John couldn't help but ask the other. The thought that not much had changed brought a warm feeling to him.

"Yeah. I think the land-lady practically adopted him. Anyone else would probably called an exorcist on him by this time, but Mrs. Hudson _loves_ him. She keeps on introducing him to the grand-daughters of her friends." Greg cackled evilly, remembering the time when Sherlock came almost in tears to complain, after he had finally realized what had the woman been trying to do.

John laughed, "Oh god, I'd love to see that. Is he old?" He knew it was a stupid question so rephrased it. "Like..does he look 19 still?"

"Still looks bloody hot." Greg shrugged, "Tall like hell, though. He just does that thing - looming over you when he talks. I guess it can be quite intimidating, had I not remembered him like a wee kid, covered in mud from head to toe."

John simply nodded, trying hard to imagine the older Sherlock. He knew the other would be incredibly hot, he was back then probably even more so now. "I thought he was tall before" he smiled slightly, placing the bottle on the floor.

"He was shorter than me, before. Made it easier for me to fuck him against a wall." Greg stuck out his tongue at John, amusement lighting his eyes up. He quickly moved to get two more bottles, cold from the fridge, and handed one to John.

John made a slight face at that, smiling awkwardly. He took the cold drink with a thankful nod. "His eyes..do they still do that thing? Like the 'We both know what's really going on here' thing?"

"All the time. He added a new look into his repertoire. It's 'if you don't know that, you should kill yourself and spare me the trouble' look. Uses that often." he grinned. "Mostly with Anderson."

"I can quite imagine." John laughed, shaking his head with a smile. "When d'you think he'll be..uhh not busy?" He asked, sipping the beer.

"I thought you didn't want to visit?" Greg raised his eyebrow at the male, beer forgotten for now. "I mean.. he doesn't have a steady schedule. Just pops up on a crime scene or runs of to jog trough London like a lunatic, but mostly just sulks at home."

"I..well I think I owe him one. I said I'd go back and see him once I'm back for good.." He motioned towards his leg slightly, patting it. "Here I am."  
Sulking? He was sulking before John left. Last time he saw him. That previous night had been one of the best of his life.. "Sulking sounds like Sherlock.."

"Yes. You said that. He didn't believe it for a moment." the older smiled a bit sadly. And so he deleted you, he thought a bit bitterly. "Wasn't expecting you to still remember him.. or want to see him at all. A lot of changed; he was quite right, after all."

"I know..15 years is a very very long time, but how on Earth could I forget a guy like Sherlock Holmes?" He smiled gently, "Of course I'd remember him. He changed the way I look at the world. Kinda."

"You changed him." Greg leaned a bit forward, cradling his head in his hands. "He had been.. kinder. Even to me." he smiled sadly. "He just.. returned back to his normal cold self when you left. Still brilliant. The most interesting person in this whole world. If you don't count Molls, of course."

John didn't know how to feel about that but the emotion that predominatley came up was sadness. John had snatched away Sherlock's amazing smile? He didn't know what to say so instead drank his beer, the taste being even bitter than before. Did Greg resent him for leaving?

"Well, it had been nice while it lasted." the detective made himself look up and smile at John. "But really. Visit me before you go visit him. I will need to talk to you.."

John nodded, "Why not talk to me now? While I'm still here." He frowned slightly, there was something Greg wasn't telling him.

"I hoped I wouldn't need to explain that to you on the first day we meet." Greg sighed, letting his head fall back into his palms. "It's a bit.. difficult. And I don't even dare to guess what will your reaction be.."

"What d'you mean? I'd just appriciate if you cut the crap and told me already." John frowned, getting more annoyed and more anxious.

"Right." he breathed, for a moment closing his eyes. He tried to think of a way how to explain it in some nice, gentle way. "He deleted you." Greg blurted out, instantly cursing at himself. A bit not good, as would Sherlock say.

John was quite suprised by his sudden outburst, taking a second to try and figure out what that meant. "Deleted?" he asked, "Like, from his phone? No big deal, I got a new one."

"No, John. He deleted you from his memory. Packed all the information about you he had, all the emotion he had when you were concerned, tied it in a box and fucking deleted it." Greg muttered, keeping his eyes closed.

John didn't know what to say. Sherlock had forgetten everything about him.. His heart felt a cold pang of sadness but he then considered the other side. 15 years..why _should_ Sherlock remember him?

_'And I you, John.' _That was 15 years..It shouldn't matter anymore.

"Oh." Was all he could say.

"He knows who you are, of course. Well, he knows you are my friend. A soldier and a doctor. He knows you met, because I told him." Greg said quickly, hoping to relieve a bit of the shock John was obviously feeling. "He knows he deleted you; just doesn't know why."

"I..umm..." John looked down at the floor, feeling overwhelming dissapointment. "Why..did he? I..uh.." He shook his head, "Nevermind. It's fine."

"Because he didn't think you would come back." Greg shrugged. "He would be waiting every day for you to come back, even though he _knew_ - according to himself - that you never will. So he deleted you. To be able to concentrate on anything at all. That's what he told me before you left."

John nodded, it was selfish of him to expect nothing to have changed. "I see.." Was all that John could say though he wasn't so sure he was so raring to see Sherlock now.

"And that's it. I.. I am sorry about that. I tried to stop him.. but he was dead set on doing it." Greg sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Why was everything so difficult anyway? And Sherlock was an idiot, no matter how smart.

"Don't apologise. I was stupid to think I could just go back to him like that. 15 years ago." John shrugged, looking at his hands. "He was smart to do it."

"Not really, no. I wish he hadn't done that." the detective sighed. "I could.. you know, introduce you two.. at least.." he looked up hopefully; maybe Sherlock hadn't changed and John hadn't either and whatever had made them like each other and trust each other was still there.

"I think I'd like that.." John nodded with a weak smile, not having else much to say. He ran a hand over his bad leg with a slight sigh, "He forgot we were ever close? Far as he's concerned, I was a friend of yours he met once or twice?"

"Yes. Though I can promise he will be interested in meeting you." Greg smiled a bit. "I told him you came to visit him on the Baker Street, for one, and that you were friends with Richard Brooks. So he will want to decipher you, if only because Jim found you interesting."

"Sounds alright. I mean - maybe we can be friends again. We were friends before." John smiled hopefully, "Can I see him tommorow?"

"I think that's quite possible, actually." which would actually be quite brilliant, Greg grinned, if John could make Sherlock smile at something other than a homicide. "We can go see him now, even, if you want?"

"Sooner would be better than later." John nodded with a smile, "Thanks." He got his crutch, using it to get up with a slight silent groan.

"Come on then." Greg hopped up and quickly gathered his phone, keys, wallet and jacket, slid on his shoes and waited for John to follow him out of the doors.  
John put his shoes on and limped out, following Greg. He felt a rush of adrenaline come over him at the thought of seeing Sherlock again and he couldn't help but smile.

"That's the spirit." Greg grinned, slipping into the lift after he locked the door. "Keep grinning like a loon, that brings back memories."

"Haven't smiled in a while. Will be good for me as well as him maybe." John nodded, dying down the grin slightly as he caught his reflection in the lift and frowned before checking his phone, given to him by Harry after she and Clara broke up.

"Yeah. You were good for him." the policeman smiled, moving out of the lift and into the street. He took a deep breath and tightened the jacket around himself. He thought about the years he spent with John and the years since. Well, Greg thought with a grin, he couldn't complain that his life was boring. Flagging down a cab, he let John crawl in first and joined him soon.

John smiled thankfully as he got into the cab and looked out of the window. "He was good for me"

"Was he? I wouldn't have believed that." Greg commented absently, leaning forward to state their destination to the driver. They pulled off smoothly, soon mixed in the light traffic.

"He made me happy. Annoying but I lo..I liked him with me. Company.." John looked at his lap. "Haven't felt like it since."

"Let's see if you can make it out of an irritating jerk back into the Sherlock you knew." It would be quite interesting to see Sherlock fall in love once again, if that will be the case. Though Greg wasn't sure if John's.. closeness wouldn't trigger some parts of Sherlock's memory and cause him to remember. That would maybe be even _more_ interesting.

"I hope so.." John commented as he smiled at Greg. "If it doesn't work it..well life goes on."

"It _will_ work. It must work." Gregory narrowed his eyes. He looked out of the windows, crossing his fingers in his lap for luck, and watched the scenery pass. Too soon for his nerves the cab stopped to a halt in front of the familiar house and Greg sighed.

So much time had passed since John had been on this street, he opened the door and got out as nostalgia hit him like a train as he saw the black door. He smiled gently, looking over at Greg.

Greg exited the car as well, jogging up the remaining way to the door. "Well," he looked to smirk at John, "Let's see if the Queen is in." he raised his hand and knocked quickly.

He felt his breathing stop as Greg knocked confidently, John leant against his crutch for support. Would it be the same? Different? Would his rats still be there? He remembered the large rodent sat amongst the younger's curls and he smiled.

It wasn't Sherlock who opened the door, but the elder housekeeper Mrs Hudson. She instantly engulfed Greg into a huge hug. "Hello mister detective inspector. I am so glad to see you. And who is your friend here?" she stepped aside to look John up and down.

John held his hand out to the elderly woman, smiling at the sight of her. "Dr Watson." He smiled politely at her despite feeling awkward.

"Oh you are a doctor." her eyes narrowed a bit as she looked her over. "And I assure you there is no need for you to be here and you can tell that to the old geezer as well."

Greg blinked at her in confusion, before he realized what she meant; "Oh no, he is my friend. Not here He is not here on Mycroft's orders." he smiled softly. "Is Sherlock home, by the way?"

The woman smiled, obviously relieved. "Oh yes dear, she is up there. I heard an explosion just a minutes ago. That is horrible, I tell you, horrible. Always blowing things up, he will hurt himself one day." she ushered them to the stairs and closed the door as she talked.

John stepped inside the familiar flat with a smile, ignoring and blanking out the withering woman inmediatley as he took in his surroundings with a fond smile. He ascended the stairs with a little difficulty but stepped behind Greg nonetheless.

Greg poked his head into the flat carefully, looking around to see where Sherlock was. He spotted him hunched over something on the heavily burned table in the kitchen, goggles over his eyes and white coat draped over his think frame.

"Oh do leave Gregory. And take your company with yourself, I have no time for your stupidity right now." Sherlock called irritably, not bothering to look up from his experiment.

John walked in from behind the detective inspector. It had been so long..yet so little had changed. He smiled widely, stifling a small laugh. As he heard Sherlock's baritone he felt his heart skip to a more accented sticatto rythm. After all this time, he was here. John didn't say anything but seemed to just stare at him who was busy with his experiments.

Greg stepped a bit back, watching the duo with great fascination and a huge smile on his lips. Oh god, after all those years; and they were still complete and utter moron.

Sherlock shook the vial in his hands, feeling the solid parts in the liquid. Dust. He sighed and set it down, making a note to obtain a fresh one. He looked up when he turned to reach into his fridge and froze in midstep, blinking in shock at the two people. "You are still here? What for?" he asked rudely.

All John could do was grin at the sight of the other, he had gotten so much taller and so much more..manly. He had just started to come out of his gawky teenage stage when John last left, but now the man was even more beautiful than before. He didn't say anything but snapped out of his daze and shifted on his crutch slightly, looking at Greg before holding a hand out to the consulting detective, "I'm Dr Watson. It's good to uhh..see you again, Mr Holmes." He decided to stick with last names for now as he was unsure how to approach this.

"Oh I know who you are, of course." Sherlock rolled his eyes, running his eyes up and down the male. He realized he wanted to pick something up from the fridge, but couldn't quite remember why was that so important.

Greg smirked. He watched Sherlock's cheeks colour up lightly as the young genius fiddled awkwardly with his fingers. Oh yes, it was still there. "Oh, Sherlock." he caught his attention, the younger turning towards him only very hesitantly. "I wanted to ask you if John could stay here with you for few days, I don't want him staying alone so soon after getting back from the war. Is that all right?" Greg sent a smirk at John, mentally pleading him not to disagree.

"You know who I-? Alright." John nodded but looked in complete surprise at Greg and his request. A bit early there surely..? Sherlock couldn't possibly recall him as he once was. The taller man before him was even more beautiful than he ever thought about him from the blistering heat of Camp Bastion. He didn't utter a syllable in disagreement.

"Oh, no. That's fine." Sherlock smiled, sparing Greg one last look before turning back to stare at the ex-soldier. "I was looking for a flat-mate anyway. Not that you would want to live here.. it's a bit.. messy, but for now.." he caught himself rambling and quickly looked away.

"Great." Greg grinned. "I will leave you guys to it. I still need to go take a look at something at the Yard, so I will see you both later." he didn't wait for them to say anything and backed out of the flat and back into the cab.

"I think the flat is nice." John commented with a slight smile. It was home

"Messy but in a homeley way. Clean places are boring ones anyways, gets rid of the history. "Glad to be here."

"Yes.. Yes that is right." Sherlock nodded eagerly. "There is another bedroom up, so you can... and tea if you want. Don't touch anything that could be- you can take a look around." he tried to explain, before he noticed he was saying more sentences at one and not one did he finish. "If you want." he added, looking down at his feet.

"I'd like nothing more than to, Sherlock." The name felt so foreign yet so normal in hos mouth. "I won't touch anything, you can go on back to your work." John nodded with a smile, limping off to the kitchen to put the kettle on, "Are the rats still here?" He asked, pouring water into thr kettle, ignoring and not touching the experiments on thr side.

"Rats? No. Died few years ago." Sherlock frowned a bit sadly, though he hid it by leaning back over his experiments. He aimlessly shuffled with his bowls and vials, listening to dr. Watson moving around the kitchen. It was weird feeling to have someone in the flat, someone who would stay longer than one hour.

"I..I'm sorry to hear that." Those rats meant so much to him. He had seen his reaction to one getting shot. Was he all alone here then? He made two teas and set one down next to Sherlock. "Have you got any new pets since then? Flesh-eating caterpillars? Contagious hamsters?" He asked playfully, going to sit down, placing the crutch down.

Sherlock turned to look at him shocked. He flicked his eyes down at the cup and reached to get a sip, before looking back at John. Something was a bit.. weird here. "Gregory said we met few times before. And that you came here to visit once with him." and that was what was weird. Why did the man know him so well? Why did he know his pet preferences and also how he drank his tea? Sherlock set his vials back down and padded into the living room, sitting down on his chair and stared at John as if he wanted to read his mind.

John watched him sit down as he sipped his tea and he swallowed hard. "Uhh..yeah. Could say that." He smiled slightly, not once daring to look up at the other's extraordinary eyes. It was true; he didn't remember him. He could feel Sherlock's eyes scanning him like a security camera and he felt slightly self-concious. "He and me go back a lot."

"That is very interesting." Sherlock commented. "You know what is the most interesting about all this, though?" he titled his head a bit, not even blinking as he watched the ex-soldier.

"What's the most interesting?" He asked the other, slightly worried about his answer, finally looking up at him.

"That even though you are a doctor _and_ a soldier, you are very horrible liar. So tell me, what isn't Gregory telling me about you?" he asked with a victorious grin.

"Do we really have to uhh get into that?" He returned the smile, having missed Sherlock's despite his looking now much different. "Well, Doctor's and soldiers have more important things to be practising, lying's not really a priority." He took another sip of his tea. "Greg's probably not told much about me to you because I'm not that important to you I guess. Met you once, you're a busy guy. Why clutter your mind with useless information on a guy who means nothing to you?" John shrugged, clearing his throat.

"Because a 'guy who means nothing to me' would not know how I drink my tea. And would not meet my pets." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Yet you do know and you not only met them, you even know what they meant to me. Not even Gregory does know. Tell me the truth. I am curious."

"You deleted me." John spoke calmly. "Since I left for the army you deleted me. We used to be dormmates at university," that seemed like a life time ago.. "And then you moved here and I lived with you for a bit before going off to the Army." He shrugged.

"I see. Gregory told me we just met. But.." he frowned for a moment as he relived the day Greg told him that. "But _I_ had told him to tell me that, I suspect. Why..?" Sherlock muttered to himself, running the problem trough his mind in hopes of solving it. Why would he feel it necessary to lie to himself? And what else had he lied about?

John just sipped his tea, not looking over the cup at Sherlock but instead looked focussed on the hot drink. Should he say..? How could he say..? Would Sherlock want to know, really? Would it bring back memories? Would it cause Sherlock to panic and kick him out? Without an answer to any, he placed the tea on the side.

"Oh so you _know_ what else was wrong." Sherlock breathed in wonder. "Now that is interesting." he ran the info trough his mind again and it was simple, really. Because, obviously, John Watson was not a collateral damage, no. Sherlock deleted him because he _needed_ to delete him. But why? He obviously wasn't forced to do so, but did it from his own wishes. "Why did I need to delete you, exactly, Mr. Watson?"

He had no idea how to say it but just mummbled, "Love." In hope that explained everything. John felt his cheeks redden as he ran a hand through his much shorter greying hair. "Greg said that if you hadn't deleted me, you would have sat there waiting for 20 years. It was smart for you to do so.. Y'know? "

"Oh." Sherlock just said, his own cheeks reddening as he stared at John. He didn't even want to blink in case the mane would just disappear from his life. Again, obviously. "I think.. I think I can understand that.." he said silently. "Did you- Did you.. like me back?" he didn't dare to say love, that would be a mere assumption, because why would anyone want to fall in love with _him_? That would be stupid.

"I.." John didn't look at him but decided he might as well admit it, "I loved you very much." He felt the room get a bit colder with the tension, the tips of his ears went red with a blush as he looked at his feet.

"Then I am sorry about what I did.." Sherlock whispered, hiding the fact that his heart just skipped a beat. So he had a person that loved him. That was nice.. he felt oddly jealous of his past self and angry at himself for just throwing that away. "Did I know? I can't believe I would just.. decide to delete a person that meant that much to me.."

"You knew." John nodded, it was like they were talking about another person intirely. They were.. but they weren't. "I was leaving for a long time..I guess you didn't want it to hurt or something so instead you deleted me..? I don't know." he smiled softly. "It's good to see you again though. You've grown loads."

Sherlock nodded. That made a sense. Didn't mean it wasn't stupid. He wondered if he could get the memories back; he had never tried anything like that. Maybe. Probably not. "Did we.. you know, sleep together..?" he looked up at John carefully, aware that his cheeks were bright red by now.

"Yeah. 3 times." John nodded, looking around the room with a fond smile. 15 years and the memories were still as fresh as if he had been here yesterday. He tapped his mug slightly before daring a look at him, smiling slightly.

"Uh.." Sherlock muttered to himself, suddenly finding his bare feet to be the most interesting thing ever. "I don't..remember.." he muttered, thinking back to the last encounter he remembered having. "The last person I remember having sex with is some guy from the University..Not you, though.. I- I would have remembered that." the detective can feel himself grow red again and really, _what_ the hell was wrong with him today? He usually left being a blabbering idiot to the rest of the world.

"Jim..?" John asked, that name now bringing back other emotions. "I guess you deleted everything about me then." He frowned slightly, "It's ok. I didn't expect you to remember me even without the deleting. You've been busy..I've been busy."

"No, not Jim." Sherlock rolled his eyes lightly. "I don't forget, that's the problem. Given few minutes, I remember every event that happened to me; every information stored in my brain. Just not those I deleted." he said silently.

"I see." John nodded, smiling sadly. "So, Greg said you've been helping police on cases? Consulting Detective?"

"The only one in the world." he said absently, still caught more in the previous conversation. He suddenly sprung up onto his feet and crossed the room to sit next to John on the couch. Sherlock stared at him carefully from the close proximity, noting every smallest detail about the man.

He was very surprised by Sherlock quickly getting up and he shuffled in his seat. John decided to be brave and looked back at Sherlock, slightly uncomfortable by the close proximity. All he could think about was how lonely the man must have been

"You got shot." Sherlock stated calmly, eyes running over John's body. "How did it happen?"

John looked down, the pain still rather new to him. It was only two weeks ago. "Out on a call. IED had gone off. Luckily I was in the truck behind but I went out to go and aid the guys who survived.." He put his hand under his leg to hide the tremor. "Got ambushed." He said no more on the matter with a slight smile.

"Your arm?" the younger hesitantly reached to take John's shaking hand in between his palms. He wondered how would it be to just lean in and kiss John; but he hadn't done anything like that since school. And he - in some way - didn't even _know_ the man, even though John knew him. "What is the problem with your leg, then?"

"Shoulder." John spoke, looking at Sherlock's hands with a soft and grateful smile. "Therapist says the limp's psychosamatic, symptom of PTSD." He shrugged, "What does she know though, ey? I'm fine. Are /you/ ok, Sherlock?"

"What is she wrong about?" Sherlock looked up into his eyes, ignoring the question. He moved his palm up John's arm, pressing it over the place where he can feel the bandages on the man's shoulder.

"Careful..I just finished physio.." He smiled gently before looking away, feeling anxious about Sherlock's hand. "About me have PTSD. Dad had that and I knew what that was like. I'm just fine," he rolled his eyes slightly. "You didn't answer my question.." The flat was so empty for one person, it was too big for one man. With all his experiments and cases, surely he still felt lonely from time to time.

"So the nightmares of war aren't following you, but _you _are following them." the younger smiled. He let the hand fall down from John's shoulder and back into his lap. "Come with me on a case." Sherlock said urgently, gazing steadily into John's eyes.

He felt himself ease immediatley as Sherlock moved away and laughed slightly. "I guess so." John looked at him miraculously. "I'd love to."

Sherlock's smile widened at that. "Brilliant." he stood up quickly, offering his hand to John to tug him onto his feet.

He took the older's hand with a smile. With the other's hand holding his own, the temoring stopped. John knew that from here on, things could only get better. He could see the familiar smile on Sherlock's lips. He was home again.


End file.
